


I Know Where You Live Now

by raleigh_bird



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Dacryphilia, Daddy Kink, Dark, Dirty Talk, Dominant Draco Malfoy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fear Play, Forced Orgasm, Hogwarts Professors, Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of Herbology Knowledge, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Light Bondage, Masturbation, Mind Games, Naked Female Clothed Male, Non-Sexual Age Play, Objectification, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Hermione Granger, Professor Neville Longbottom, Psychological Trauma, Really Smug Draco Malfoy, Sadism, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Sexual Coercion, Smug Draco Malfoy, Smut, Submissive Hermione Granger, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Veritaserum, and four peas, imposter syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27505825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raleigh_bird/pseuds/raleigh_bird
Summary: Guilty about her Obliviated parents, Hermione Granger gives up magic and runs away to Australia, pushing away former friends while trying to forget the past. Five years later, Headmistress McGonagall reaches out to her former top pupil to invite her back to Hogwarts to fill the role of Transfiguration professor and Head of Gryffindor House.No longer a boy, Draco Malfoy has developed more sophisticated methods of getting under his former classmate's skin. The more he makes her confront her darkness, the more she craves what he makes her feel. Mind the tags and warnings: non-fluffy graphic smut, dark humiliation, emotional sadism, fear play, and non-con Veritaserum and Legilimency.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 137
Kudos: 168





	1. A New Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It is my great pleasure to pass on the torch of Gryffindor Head of House and Professor of Transfiguration to one of the brightest witches in our school’s history, Miss Hermione Granger,” the Scottish witch said cheerily which was met with loud applause, particularly from Hagrid and Neville. The cover of this applause gave Malfoy the opportunity to discreetly whisper, “Someone still likes being called a good girl.”_

Hermione Granger took a steadying breath as she approached the faculty table in the Great Hall for the Start of Term Feast, taking a seat to the left of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. There was a palpable excitement in the air as the students awaited the Sorting Ceremony, eyeing the nervous-looking First Years. Hermione had only arrived that evening herself, opting to take the train from King’s Cross Station for the nostalgia rather than coming to Hogwarts by Floo Network. She had debated several options for the occasion but had decided on gold velvet robes with an embroidered hem that ended just above a pair of nude pumps. 

She had been greeted enthusiastically by the familiar faces of old teachers such as Filius Flitwick and Rubeus Hagrid, as well as her former fellow Gryffindor and now Herbology professor, Neville Longbottom. She had been laughing softly at a comment from the Headmistress when a movement on her left caught her notice. Bringing her pumpkin juice to her lips, she cast a sideways glance and then allowed her gaze to climb up a set of finely-tailored jet black robes, until she came upon the unmistakable pale features of Draco Malfoy. She could not help sputtering on her drink in surprise. 

“Granger. You’re drooling,” the tall blond drawled in a bored tone, loud enough for the Headmistress to overhear. Hermione snapped her mouth closed and turned away with a furious blush.

The Headmistress gave Draco a withering look that clearly told him to play nicely, as she stood to begin the evening’s Sorting Ceremony and opening remarks for the start of term. Hermione tried to focus on the newest students taking their turns being sorted, but could not help but feel a kind of nervous tension with Malfoy’s presence so close. She had not seen him since the Battle of Hogwarts more than five years ago, and her mind kept drifting away towards unpleasant memories. 

That night was marked with endings. The fall of Voldemort and the end of the war obviously. So many people that she knew had been lost. Harry and Ron had immediately chosen to join the Ministry’s Auror Training program without a backwards glance. She could not imagine choosing to continue putting herself in harm's way which neither of her friends understood. Hermione absently touched her lips as she recalled the one kiss that she had shared with Ron. She had asked him to come to Australia with her when she discovered that she could not reverse the spell that she had cast on her parents, but she knew she was on her own. He wouldn't leave his family, and she wouldn't have wanted him to. So she went alone to Australia where things had been...peaceful, if not a bit lonely.

Once the First Years were sorted, Hermione’s head popped up as the Headmistress began to introduce the current faculty. Hermione had heard about Neville joining a couple of years ago, but somehow the news about Draco Malfoy taking on his godfather’s old post as Potions Master had not reached her in the land down under. 

“It is my great pleasure to pass on the torch of Gryffindor Head of House and Professor of Transfiguration to one of the brightest witches in our school’s history, Miss Hermione Granger,” the Scottish witch said cheerily which was met with loud applause, particularly from Hagrid and Neville. The cover of this applause gave Malfoy the opportunity to discreetly whisper, “Someone still likes being called a good girl.” 

The comment tugged at something low in her core that made Hermione look at him sharply. He was smirking into his goblet, and so she shook it off and tried to turn her attention back to the Headmistress. Her cheeks felt flushed and it suddenly felt very warm in the Great Hall. She was especially grateful when at last the prefects were called to escort students to their house dormitories. Her trunks had been taken to the faculty wing of the castle, but she had not yet seen her quarters yet. As she brought her wand up to unlock her door, Draco Malfoy emerged from the next room. He gave her an openly-appraising look that left her feeling weak-kneed. "Granger," he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear as he made his way past her down the hall in the general direction of the dungeons.

She had never as student seen any of the professors’ private quarters and was not sure what she expected. There was a small en suite with a large clawfoot bathtub. There were two reading chairs upholstered in scarlet and gold damask next to the fireplace which she was certain would be connected to the Floo Network allowing her to travel from the school since the anti-Apparition wards still applied to staff. The queen-sized four poster bed was curtained with heavy velvet. Hermione imagined that the large window would mean that the room would be bright and sunny during the day. 

Hermione hung up her robes in the small wardrobe and unpacked a few things from her trunk to take a much-needed shower before she slipped into a long silk nightgown. While she was using her wand to arrange her chocolate-colored curls, she noticed a couple of items on the small writing desk under the window. A small bouquet of flowers sat in vase with a card from Neville welcoming her and wishing her good luck on her first day. Hermione’s fingers were drawn to a handsome journal bound in smooth oxblood leather with a bit of parchment tucked into the cover which read: 

_HG, Start a new chapter. -DM_


	2. A New Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When he took his seat next to her, he had meant to keep his greeting formal and aloof to test the waters but then she gave him such a look of… he wasn’t quite sure. Shock? Alarm? He found it somewhat endearing how rattled she seemed. As she stared up at him completely dumbstruck, her mouth still wet with pumpkin juice, Draco had to restrain himself from running a thumb over her slightly-parted lips. As a boy, he had loved getting a rise out of her with his taunts, and now felt a familiar thrill go through him laced with something decidedly more adult in nature._

It was early in the summer when Draco Malfoy first learned that Hermione Granger would be joining the faculty of Hogwarts in the fall. While Minerva McGonagall had been managing the roles of Headmistress, Professor, and Head of House for a number of years, it had been her hope to find a worthy successor for some time so that she could more fully devote her attention to her duties as Headmistress. 

He had heard very little about his former classmate other than the fact that she had been living in Australia since the war, doing what, no one was really sure. The two other members of the so-called Golden Trio (a phrase that made Malfoy’s eyes roll) popped up in the _Daily Prophet_ here and there as a couple of the Ministry’s most well-known Aurors. How Hermione Granger, the so-called Brightest Witch of Her Age and comrade of the Chosen One, had managed to drop off the radar of wizarding society was a mystery that thoroughly intrigued him. 

He had been getting a bit of fresh air before dinner when he spotted Hermione in one of the carriages coming up from Hogsmeade to the gates of the castle. While the arriving students raced about in the direction of the Great Hall, he noticed that she hung back near the carriages taking her time. He watched as she reached a delicate hand to stroke the head of one of the fearsome-looking Thestrals which responded to her affection with a gentle snort. 

She looked truly beautiful in the moonlight. It was the first time he had seen her in robes that were not the standard-issue Hogwarts uniform. Tonight she was wrapped in velvet the color of golden honey. Even in the evening light he could tell that the shade complimented her sun-kissed skin and her dark brown curls. The robes fell in elegant pleats to a tea-length hem which swished around her delicate ankles. Merlin help him, she was wearing stiletto heels! 

Draco raked a hand through his platinum blond hair, rubbing the back of his neck as an unbidden spark of interest came over him. He itched to trace the curve of her exposed ankle or to wind his fist through her hair. He'd be lying if he said that the thought had never crossed his mind, thoughts going back so far as their school days together. _Get it together, Malfoy_ , he thought. He decided to take a circuitous route to the Great Hall to get his thoughts back under his control before dinner. 

When he took his seat next to her, he had meant to keep his greeting formal and aloof to test the waters but then she gave him such a look of… he wasn’t quite sure. Shock? Alarm? He found it somewhat endearing how rattled she seemed. As she stared up at him completely dumbstruck, her mouth still wet with pumpkin juice, Draco had to restrain himself from running a thumb over her slightly-parted lips. As a boy, he had loved getting a rise out of her with his taunts, and now felt a familiar thrill go through him laced with something decidedly more adult in nature. 

His little jab about her love of praise, sent a pretty blush crawling up the collar of her robe all the way to her hairline. He would certainly be filing that image away for later. He could think of a number of enjoyable ways that she might earn a Good Girl or two out of him. As an adolescent he had found her to be an insufferable know-it-all, but as he grew older he had come to appreciate the appeal of a certain eagerness to please. And if there was one thing that Draco remembered about Hermione Granger, it was that her eagerness to please bordered on desperation. 

Later when he breezed past her outside their rooms he noted the way she held her breath at his close proximity, and the way that she darted into her quarters without responding. _You can hide for now_ , he thought, chuckling to himself. When he finally settled into bed for the night, his hand found his hard shaft and the memory of Hermione Granger utterly broken on his drawing room floor, her delicious screams and hopeless sobs, a lullaby just for him.


	3. A New Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco offers a little birthday surprise to a touch-starved Hermione. Sudden dark smut. Humiliation. Light water torture. You've been warned.
> 
> _“I...well, you weren’t at lunch or dinner, and I thought…” she said uncertainly._
> 
> _“...that I needed rescuing?” he drawled, lifting a brow into a perfect arch._
> 
> _Merlin, had Snape given him private lessons in how to make her feel two inches tall?_

The first few weeks of term flew by in a blur of learning names and settling into a new schedule. Hermione was delighted at how quickly her magic skill returned to her after giving up magic for the most part while she was in Australia. Walking the familiar halls of the castle reminded her of better days and who she used to be. 

She wasn't surprised that teaching suited her. Hermione thought back on her friendship with Harry and Ron and recognized that a lot of it involved sharing her knowledge with them. _I am good at this_ , she told herself as she walked past a table with two Hufflepuff girls. They were taking turns changing a needle into a matchstick, and Hermione smiled approvingly at their progress. She channeled Minerva McGonagall’s unflappable calm when a boy managed to light his parchment on fire while trying to perform the same _Flintifors_ spell. Hermione took pride in the small daily successes. 

Sitting at her desk, Hermione ran her fingers over her new journal. The gift was clearly of high-quality, but more than that, it had been a thoughtful gesture. She had meant to thank Malfoy for the unexpected present, but Hermione found herself feeling tongue-tied whenever she had had the opportunity. They continued to sit next to each other at meals in the Great Hall, but he seemed just as content to eat in silence at the High Table. She was beginning to wonder if they would ever end up speaking.

On the Friday morning of her birthday, a card from Molly and Arthur Weasley came by owl along with a heavy knit throw blanket with a golden 'H' in each corner. She smiled broadly and brought the scarlet wool to her nose and inhaled the warm, almost forgotten scent of The Burrow. Her soft sigh drew Malfoy’s attention.

“That looks cozy,” he said neutrally.

“Molly Weasley knit it for my birthday,” she replied, running her fingers lovingly over the stitches.

“Stay in touch with the Weasleys much? For a time, I thought you were practically one of litter,” he commented.

Hermione looked at him sharply to gauge his intentions, but could find nothing suggesting malice in his finely-drawn features. “Oh, not really. We sort of lost touch when I was in Australia. This is the first I’ve heard from them in awhile actually.”

Once the words were out, Hermione felt vulnerable as he continued to look at her for further comment. She folded the blanket and tucked it into her canvas bag as an excuse to busy herself while she pushed away sad thoughts. 

“So big plans for your birthday?” he queried.

“Ah, not really. I thought I might visit with Hagrid after dinner, but he mentioned that he would be away for the weekend,” she said in noncommittal way.

Birthdays at Hogwarts in the past had meant the warmth of Hagrid’s hut and being sandwiched between her two best friends. Her thoughts drifted back to Australia where she had spent birthdays in Sydney, getting drunk on cheap wine and staying up until dawn dancing with Muggle strangers that had mercifully never heard of Voldemort or the Golden Trio and especially not Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of Her Age.

She felt a pang for those late nights. The sweaty tumbles that made her feel powerful in ways that had nothing to do with magic. Her face flushed with arousal as she recalled a particular evening with a lanky bartender and the way that she wrapped her legs around his hips as he shoved his fingers into her mouth...

Malfoy noticed her far off gaze and used the moment to observe her quietly. It was the most that they had spoken since the start of term, and the way she had nuzzled the knit blanket, her eyes closing in contentment, made him feel oddly jealous of the inanimate object. She looked lost in thought now, and he couldn’t help but notice her slight squirm in her seat. He smirked knowingly as he rose from his seat. He placed a hand on the back of her chair, bringing his mouth close to her ear to say, “Well I’m off to my dungeon. Be good at school, birthday girl.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as she stared at Malfoy’s retreating form. _Why on earth did Draco Malfoy just say that_ , she thought. And why did being called _girl_ make her insides flip? Hermione's pulse raced as she gathered up her things and quickly made her way to her classroom to have a few minutes of privacy before her students arrived.

On Friday mornings she had her N.E.W.T.-level students and then the rest of the afternoon free. Her students were tackling very advanced conjuring spells and were working mostly without her guidance. Today she had them transfiguring small stones into a food items of their choosing that she would score on both taste and presentation. As the class was ending, a Hufflepuff girl came up to Hermione’s desk carrying a chocolate cupcake with lavender-colored frosting.

“But how did you…” she asked.

“Oh, Professor Malfoy told us in class on Monday,” the girl said before turning to catch up with her classmates, leaving Hermione to puzzle over this information.

She looked for Malfoy at lunch to thank him but didn't see him in the Great Hall. Sitting down to her food, her thoughts drifted to the way his warm breath had grazed over her ear this morning making Hermione ball her fists in her lap.

 _Who was he to tell her to “be good at school”_ , she thought. The cheek of him! She tried to imagine Harry or Ron telling her such a thing and the thought was ridiculous. Also, thinking about those words coming from Harry or Ron did not make her stomach drop the way that hers had this morning.

After lunch, Hermione decided on a hot bath when she got back to her room. Resting her head against the rim of the tub with her curls piled on the top of her head, she dreamily let her wand skim the surface of the water leaving trails of colored bubbles. She used her wand to remove the hair from her legs, traveling up a bit farther than usual. When she was finished she ran her hand over her taut calves and thighs. She let her fingers trace the curves of her breasts seeking out the sensitive rosy-colored peaks. She closed her eyes to the sensations as she dipped her fingers to her sex.

She felt suddenly desperate for release, grinding against her hand under the surface of the bathwater. Hermione was so close that all she needed was one more thought, one more image to put her over the edge. She bit her lip and roughly palmed the sensitive flesh of her throat and breasts. The final thought came before she could stop it or question it: _Malfoy dragging his teeth over her neck and whispering, “Come for me.”_

Her eyes flew open, pupils blown wide as her body twisted with wave after wave of orgasm. After what seemed like ages, she let her body go boneless in the water, still panting wantonly. _What was that about?_

She stood up on wobbly legs and rinsed off before reaching for a large fluffy towel. Hermione found her reflection in the mirror when she stepped out of the bath. Her face and chest were flushed and glowing. Little tendrils of hair had come loose at her temples. The smell of sex continued to emanate from every pore.

She pulled her journal from her bag before slipping naked between the cool sheets, the towel abandoned on the floor. She rubbed her smooth legs together beneath the blankets, sighing with pleasure. She still had another two hours before dinner and she felt spent enough to take a nap. But first, she wanted to write a bit while she was still feeling so raw.

>   
>  I want to be devastated. To shatter. To be ground down into nothing. “Be good at school, birthday girl.” I am so utterly fucked...  
> 

Draco Malfoy was making his way around his classroom of Fourth Years. They were working in pairs on a Draught of Peace, carefully grinding unicorn horn and porcupine quills into their cauldrons. He examined finished vials, silently expressing volumes of disapproval when a potion failed to meet his exacting standards. As the students continued to toil away, he returned to his desk and pulled out a leather journal. He touched his wand to a corner of a blank page and waited for the words to appear:

>   
>  I want to be devastated. To shatter. To be ground down into nothing. “Be good at school, birthday girl.” I am so utterly fucked...  
> 

_Well that’s certainly...intriguing_ , he thought, unable to suppress a mischievous smirk.

 _She will come down here tonight_ , he predicted. And Draco Malfoy was rarely wrong.

Hermione woke from her nap feeling refreshed. She chose an emerald green cardigan and gray tweed skirt which she topped with gray satin robes. She justified the extra effort in her appearance as a birthday treat, lining her eyes and applying mascara. She finished with a swipe of rosy lipstick and blush that gave her a subtle glow.

Heading into the Great Hall for dinner, Hermione turned a few of the older lads' heads which made her flush. Neville leaned over from his end of the table and gave her a wide smile and a thumbs-up. She mouthed a shy thanks and tucked a curl behind her ear. Even the Headmistress noticed and told Hermione kindly that she looked rather lovely this evening.

Malfoy was again not there and she chided herself for being disappointed by his absence. When he still hadn’t materialized by the end of the meal, she made her way back to her room. She paced a bit in the hallway trying to think of a reason to knock on his door. She finally decided on “Just checking to see if you were okay because you weren’t at lunch or dinner” as a fairly reasonable option.

One soft knock, then two louder. But there was no answer. Hermione bit her lip. _Perhaps he is still working in the Potions classroom_ , she thought. Hermione made her way towards the dungeons, hoping desperately not to run into anyone whom might ask what she was doing. She picked her way down the stone steps that spiraled into the castle’s depths.

Draco Malfoy did not rise when Hermione initially appeared at the base of the stairs and crossed the room towards his desk. Now that she was here she had to remind herself of the reason that she had given herself to seek him out, as words seemed to fail her under his cold gray eyes.

“I...well, you weren’t at lunch or dinner, and I thought…” she said uncertainly.

“...that I needed rescuing?” he drawled, lifting a brow into a perfect arch. _Merlin, had Snape given him private lessons in how to make her feel two inches tall?_

“Yes, I mean, no... Just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she managed at last.

He stood then and came around his desk to close the distance between them. He made a painfully slow circle around her with an appraising look that had her struggling to meet his gaze. He leaned nonchalantly against the front of his desk, his legs crossed at the ankle.

“I’m touched, Granger,” he said.  
Hermione’s eyes unconsciously drifted to his hands which he had shoved into his pockets where the front of his trousers pulled tight across his…

A soft chuckle made Hermione’s eyes immediately fly up to his face. _Busted!_ She shook her head in denial bringing a hand over her mouth, completely mortified. He was standing too close to her. She could smell him, an heady herbal scent like lavender or hops. She brought her hand back down to her side and attempted a centering breath.

“So tell me the real reason you came down here, Granger,” he said calmly.

“What?” she asked defensively, “What do you mean the _real_ reason, Malfoy?”

“You could have Floo’d, you could have sent a Patronus, or even told McGonagall if you were so concerned. We are hardly friends. But you chose to come down here, all dolled up, on your birthday. Why?”

Hermione bit her lip and glanced at the stairs, looking for a quick and painless exit. Draco cast a non-verbal _Legilimens_ spell which she only registered as gentle tug at her consciousness like remembering an unrelated fact while reading a book. He pushed past the birthday memories. He wasn’t interested in those cloying, overly-sentimental images. He knew it when he found what he was looking for. _Today, in the bathtub, sweet Merlin!_

“Tick tock, Granger. What’ll it be?”

“I...d-didn’t want to be alone,” she mumbled.

“Aww...poor lonely princess," he mocked. He leaned closer to whisper, "Did they forget about you? Weasley and Potter? Mummy and Daddy? You ran away for years, and no one came to see if _you_ were okay." The hurt was so close to the surface that he pulled his magic from her mind since it was hardly necessary. He could read everything he needed in her face.

“This was a mistake,” she said curtly, spinning on her heel towards the stairs, “Sorry I bothered.”

“Stop.” It wasn’t a request.

Hermione could feel the threat of tears and her heart hammering in her chest as she faced the stairs, his eyes holding her in place like a pin through an insect.

“The brave Gryffindor princess. Gods, you should see how you're shaking right now. So pathetic,” he said in an amused tone.

He moved so quickly that she barely had the time to gasp before his hand shot out to coil through her hair. His merciless hold controlled her as easily as a marionette. Hermione squealed in protest, too stunned to reach for her wand, the pain in her scalp bringing more tears to her eyes. Her feet scraped along the floor as he half-dragged and half-pushed her towards the stone basin in the corner which was filling itself as they approached.

Her eyes went wild with terror as he unceremoniously shoved her face into the icy water. She coughed and sputtered when he brought her back up, her makeup running down her checks in two black rivers. She brought her hands up to his wrist to pry his grip loose from her hair without success. She scarcely had time to draw a full breath before he pushed her into the water again.

Her arms flailed blindly, but no matter how much she thrashed his grip only tightened. By the fourth time he forced her into the water, she had stopped struggling. She just held her breath and stayed still.

“Still such a quick learner, pet,” he said, bringing his face close to hers. She was wild-eyed as he brought a hand up to roughly rub the water from her eyes and smear what was left of her lipstick.

“W-what the...fuck...why, Malfoy?” she panted as his fingers lightly rested on her throat. Why wasn't she reaching for her wand?

“I just wanted to see you,” he said coldly as if that explained his attempt to drown her. He turned her face slightly until she could see herself in the mirror above the basin. She was a frightful sight with her hair in a snarl around his hand and her makeup ruined and dripping down her face.

He spun her around to face him, her back against the basin, one hand still coiled in her hair and the other digging into her waist. He dropped his mouth near her ear which made her breath catch.

“You’re so disgusting right now. You come down here, painted and practically begging for attention.” She made a sound of disagreement, but it was quickly muted by a sharp squeeze of his fist in her hair.

“Let’s try again. Tell me the real reason you came down here,” he said, his hand loosening its grip slightly.

“I didn’t want…” she faltered. “I just wanted to see you,” she echoed his words, confessed in the softest of whispers.

“I know,” he said, “Show me.”

She brought both palms flat against his chest for a moment as if deciding what to do. Taking a deep breath, her fingers drifted to the buttons of her sweater undoing each slowly. He reached around her to unzip her skirt and let it pool around her ankles, as she pushed both the cardigan and her robe off in one motion.

Standing in just her knickers, bra, and heels, she curled in on herself as the chilly air hitting her wet skin made her acutely aware of her near nakedness. She pulled her arms across her chest in an attempt to cover herself. He brought her left hand towards him, exposing the ugly scar on the inside of her forearm, which made her look away.

“No, look at it. Look at it. Do you remember when I used to call you that? That’s such an ugly word. A filthy word for a filthy little girl,” he murmured in her ear as he traced the letters lightly.

“S-stop it,” her voice barely a whisper, "Please, stop."

“Do I make you feel dirty? I can make you feel anything that I want. And right now I want you to feel pathetic and needy.”

Hermione was losing her grip on reality as all thought diverted directly to her cunt which she could both smell and feel drooling into her knickers. This was Draco Malfoy. She cursed her traitorous body for reacting to his vile words. She came down here because she didn’t want to be alone. That was true. But something else was pulling at her. She came down to see him because she wanted him to look at her the way he was looking at her now. She wanted to be seen.

“Show me how much you want it,” he demanded as he forced two fingers into her mouth. She suckled on the invading digits tasting the salt of his skin. Her cheeks hollowed as she ran her tongue around and between them. He smiled when she whimpered in protest as he removed them. He let them travel down to slide beneath her knickers into her eager sex. He held his hand still as she started to grind against him.

He pulled her close with his other arm, using his hips to pin her against the basin. For a moment the only sounds were her desperate little gasps and the obscenely wet noises of her movements. She clutched at his robes, shutting her eyes tight to what she was doing. Maybe she could just shove away thoughts and get through this, hiding her face from his gaze.

“I want to you to know how far you’ve truly fallen, Granger. I want you to think about Potter and Weasley. I want you to think about them seeing you humping me like a dog. What would they do if they could hear the pathetic noises you're making, hmm? Do they know what you smell like when you're dripping? I want you to think about how badly you want me to let you come until it's the only thought in that pretty little head,” he said close to her ear, feeling her pace quicken with each awful word. “That’s it, Granger. Be a good girl and come for me.”

Hermione let out a guttural sob as she shattered into million pieces, devastated and utterly fucked. Her whole body shook again and again. He watched as she fell apart, loving every beautiful second of her climax.

He was impressed that she had enough fight left in her to panic after the waves of orgasm began to fade into rage and shame. She beat her forearms against his unmoving chest and tried to escape the cage of his arms. But he held his ground until she exhausted herself, slumping against him in defeat, her choking sobs giving way to silent tears.

She did not even protest when he lifted her as easily as a ragdoll, bringing an arm behind her knees and her head to his shoulder. She heard him say her name and it partially registered that he had spoken not to her but the fireplace to bring them to her room by Floo.

Physically, emotionally, and sexually spent, Hermione shut her eyes and was drowsily aware that he had cast a _Scourgify_ spell over her and removed her heels before tucking her into her own bed. She was tired down to her bones, only vaguely aware of his weight on her bed. He cupped her cheek and he felt a swell of satisfaction as she nuzzled into his palm with the same contented sigh as she had this morning.

He charmed a glass of water and a small vial of Pepper-Up Potion to leave on her nightstand with her wand that he had pocketed from her skirt. She reached an arm weakly in his direction, giving a barely conscious whimper of protest as he stood to leave. It almost convinced him to stay. Almost.

He smiled as he bent to bring his lips to her temple which made her eyes fluttered half-open, a dreamy peaceful expression on her face. "There she is," he whispered cheerfully, "Welcome back."

"W-what? How?" she breathed, her eyes darting around her room before turning back to him with confusion. He watched with amusement as she started piecing things together, her body curling under the covers to hide her furiously blushing face.

"Now, now, it's bed time for you, birthday girl," he said in a paternal tone, then coming close to whisper, "You did so well tonight. I'm very proud of you." Her eyes widened at his words, his unexpected praise contrasting sharply with his earlier words and sending a wave of pleasure through her.

"And Granger," he said, just before stepping into the green flames of the Floo, "Don't forget that I know where you live now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be in my bunk. 
> 
> Non-con elements to be explored are more sexual coercion than outright assault. They genuinely want each other, but y'know _baggage_ and poor negotiating early on. 
> 
> Please see/participate in comments for further discussion.


	4. A New Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He wouldn’t bother with Legilimency, it was too perfect to watch her anxious little movements and the way that she was trying and failing to not look in his direction._

Hermione slept straight through breakfast and nearly into lunch. Upon waking she instantly felt a sense of having forgotten something very important which soon hit her with the force of a mountain troll. She couldn’t. She couldn’t have done _that_ with Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. It had to have been a dream. _Or a nightmare_ , she thought. But there was no mistaking the glass of water and vial of potion that she definitely did not put on her bedside table. Hermione couldn't help eyeing the objects as if they were cursed. 

Although she had only one glass of wine at dinner last night, her mind felt fuzzy as if she had been heavily drunk. _Or drunk, but not on wine,_ she thought with a frown. She suddenly worried if Draco Malfoy was capable of casting an Imperius Curse. No. She had a hard time ignoring the gnawing ache she felt which told her that she was very aware of what she was doing. How could he say such horrible things to her and why hadn’t she hexed the smirk off his face? Why had she come harder than she had ever before to the point that she was rendered so defenseless? 

By the time Hermione had dressed herself, having downed the water and even hazarding the potion, she had twenty times more questions than answers. The answers that her head seemed sure of did not align with what her body was feeling. No, her body, her traitorous body, was still aching for more. She tamed her hair quickly and made her way down to the Great Hall peering around a corner to look at the High Table. Good, he wasn’t there. Lunch had begun already so if she just slipped in quickly... 

“Looking for anyone in particular, Granger?” came a drawl behind her. 

Hermione made an inelegant sound that one might make if they had missed a step coming down the stairs. When she whirled around to meet his eyes they were bright with laughter which a few Hufflepuffs within earshot were sharing. She gave him a pinched scowl as she turned and marched away toward the table, making a point to take Hagrid’s empty seat next to Neville. Malfoy continued to smirk, clearly unaffected by her scowl or her choice to sit on the opposite end of the table. 

He moved into her usual chair and struck up a friendly conversation with the Headmistress which allowed him to turn towards Hermione’s side of the table, effectively giving him the perfect viewing angle to watch her. He wouldn’t bother with Legilimency, it was too perfect to watch her anxious little movements and the way that she was trying and failing to not look in his direction. He noisily bit into an apple and the unrestrained hunger in her eyes nearly made him blush like a school girl.

“I’m sorry what was that?” Hermione asked Neville having clearly missed a question.

“I asked if you were planning on visiting Harry when he’s in Hogsmeade tomorrow. Is everything okay? You look a bit, uh, distracted,” Neville said. 

“I’m...no, I’m fine. I guess I hadn’t heard,” she replied her brow furrowed. 

“That’s odd. Harry owled me yesterday that he needed to come up for a work assignment. Vague, you know Auror business I reckon, but wanted to grab a drink. He didn’t tell you?” Neville asked, looking confused. 

“Neville,” Hermione stared at her plate for a moment before continuing, “I haven’t spoken to Harry, or Ron for that matter, in quite some time. We just sort of grew apart...after the war. And the thing is, I didn’t precisely, in so many words exactly…” 

“They don’t know you’re here. You didn't tell them you came back.” Neville finished finally, looking at her with such earnest concern that Hermione was certain she might melt into the floor. 

“Well, no, I don’t think they've heard yet,” she said quietly, “And, Neville, do you think you could maybe not mention it? You know, if you see him. I mean, you don't have to lie, but just, um, if it doesn't come up...”

"Hermione, it's Harry..." he started, but stopped as her face showed such genuine distress. Neville gave a long exhale before finally nodding his head and she touched his forearm managing a small reassuringly smile. 

Draco was still half attending to his conversation with the Headmistress when he saw the hand Hermione placed on Neville and the smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He watched as she stood. She was being careful not to look at him as she said a quiet goodbye to Neville before walking out of the Great Hall. Draco caught Neville’s eye, the expression on his face nearly as forlorn as the one on hers. 

Hermione paced her room trying to figure out what do. It wasn’t as if she had meant it to be a secret. She took off her shoes and threw them into the wardrobe angrily. She had assumed that the _Daily Prophet_ or the like would have written something about Hermione Granger joining the Hogwarts faculty. She assumed that those that knew her would just sort of find out. When the owl arrived from the Weasleys for her birthday, she had felt a pang of guilt knowing that they still thought she was in Australia (Owl Post forwarding being magically efficient even internationally). She just couldn’t bring herself to write that she had come back, tail between her legs, no closer to restoring her parents’ memory. When she first left after the war, she sent owls daily to Harry, Ron, Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys, and to other friends, too. When fewer and fewer returned, she tried to understand. They were busy. They were grieving and healing. They didn’t need her anymore to help them figure out Horcrux riddles and homework. They were giving her space to deal with what happened. Alone. 

Hermione stopped her pacing when she heard knocking at her door. She hoped if she just stood still then Neville would go away. The last thing she needed was a lecture about how she had put him in an awkward position and that she wasn't being fair. At another triplet of knocks, she crossed the room with an exasperated sigh, “Look Neville, you don’t…” But of course it wasn’t Neville, because obviously it was Draco Malfoy though notably absent his usual smirk. 

He wasn’t three paces into the room, pulling the door closed behind him, before Hermione’s initial response of surprise gave way to the choking gasps of unrestrained tears, pitiful and childlike. He threw a quick Muffliato charm and closed the distance between them. She didn't say a thing when he deftly pulled her into his lap as he settled into one of the chairs by the fire. She pushed against him as she had the night before, but he held her too firmly to his chest for her to get much leverage for her weak attempts at protest. She pressed her wet face into his neck while he rubbed circles on her back. 

“Ready to talk about it?” he ventured after her tears had stopped. 

“Are you going to drown me in the bath if I say no?” she replied, not lifting her head. When he chuckled she could hear it vibrate through his chest and she couldn't help but snuggle closer to him.

“It's certainly tempting, but I’ll give you a pass this once, Granger. I can’t waste perfectly good sexual torture on someone not at full strength. That would be ungentlemanly,” he replied. 

Hermione gave a snorting laugh that shook her shoulders. She picked up her head to look at him. His lip quirked into a smirk as he brushed his knuckles over her cheeks, smoothing away a few stray tendrils that were plastered to her face with drying tears. She shook her head in wonder, “Who _are_ you?”

“Me?” he asked innocently. 

“Yes, you. The Draco Malfoy that I knew…” 

“...was an arrogant prat who tormented you for years for being Muggle-born? Dark Mark? Legs for days? That sound about right?” 

“Um, more or less. I mean, the things that you said last night...”

“Just what I felt you needed to hear to come apart in the way that I wanted. Don’t worry there’s method to my madness. I am a very good teacher,” he said giving her neck a little nip and enjoying the way that it made her whimper.

Her eyes appeared glassy in the firelight before she spoke again, an angry edge creeping into her voice, “You were right though. About what you said. They forgot about me. Harry, Ron, my parents. You asked me what they would think about this,” she gestured between them, “I don’t think they would care at all. I would have to mean something to them. And I don’t." 

She closed her eyes and curled into him, tucking her head under his chin as her fingers traced the buttons of his robes. Draco continued to rub her back but made no comment for several minutes, letting her words hang in the air as he tried to put them in context with the images and feelings that he had stumbled upon the previous night.

“What did Neville say to you that upset you?”

“Harry will be in Hogsmeade tomorrow. And he...he doesn’t know I’m back from Australia. I didn’t tell him that I took the job here. I thought it would be better if he heard it from someone else,” she said softly. 

“What made you think that?”

“We stopped being friends...stopped being family. I don’t know how or when, but it changed. When I erased myself from my parents’ memories it was for the greater good, so I could keep them safe and we could win the war. I thought if I didn’t have my family at least I would always have Harry and Ron, but they forgot me. It feels like everyone did.” 

“I didn’t forget you, Granger. I remember every annoying _It's LeviOsa, not LevioSA!_ you have ever hurled within earshot. I remember every icy glare you ever sent my way. How could I forget how pretty your face gets when you're angry? And my nose also distinctly remembers this little fist,” he said bringing her hand to his lips and planting kisses along her knuckles and down to her wrist. When he looked up at her again her eyes had darkened and she was staring at his mouth with interest. 

“Care to be snogged you until you can’t remember the Chosen One’s name?”

“Maybe you should fuck me until I can’t remember my own name, Malfoy.” 

“Always the last word?” 

“Yep.”

“I recommend not getting used to it, Granger.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a marshmallow. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed. I went in a very different direction sooner than expected and might change some tags/warnings.


	5. A New Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Sweet Merlin! I thought I was seeing a ghost! When did you get back? What are you doing here?”_   
>  _Hermione was about to open her mouth when Draco appeared carrying two pints of butterbeer. “Fancy seeing you here, Potter,” he said cheerfully, “Bit of a reunion, eh?”_

“I don’t want to do this,” Hermione stated, her lips drawn into a thin line.

“Come on, Neville will be there, I will be there,” Draco said confidently, “How bad could it really be? And you promised.”

“You don’t understand,” Hermione pleaded going so far as to block Draco’s path as they stood not far from the Three Broomsticks, “I don’t even know how you talked me into coming to Hogsmeade today.”

Draco smiled wolfishly and brought his lips close to her ear to whisper, “I think it was right around your sixth or seventh orgasm last night. Or was it when you were on your knees this morning begging for…”

Hermione’s face turned instantly scarlet as she pulled away from him, “I agreed under duress.”

“Is that the word you want to use, Granger?  _ Duress? _ ” he asked with a smirk, his gray eyes bright with amusement.

Hermione took to studying the buttons of his coat with sudden interest. She hadn’t seen Harry in over five years and hadn’t heard from him in about as long. She caught her reflection in a shop window, her dark auburn hair plaited into two braids, her lips still slightly swollen from a lazy Sunday morning of snogging. She fussed with the collar of her jacket to conceal the hint of a bruise at the neckline of her knit tunic. 

“You look fine,” he said, watching her reflection carefully, “Bewitching, really.” 

“Bewitching, Malfoy?” she said with an eyeroll, “Come on then. To the gallows.”

When they stepped inside, they saw Neville and Harry at table in the corner, Harry’s back to the door. Draco leaned in and whispered that he would get them drinks, pushing her firmly towards the table and giving her shoulders an encouraging squeeze. 

Harry, completely caught off guard, nearly knocked over his chair as he stood. He closed the distance between them in two strides pulling Hermione into a bone-crushing embrace as he began peppering her with questions and exclamations.

“Sweet Merlin! I thought I was seeing a ghost! When did you get back? What are you doing here?”

Hermione was about to open her mouth when Draco appeared carrying two pints of butterbeer. “Fancy seeing you here, Potter,” he said cheerfully, “Bit of a reunion, eh?” Draco slid a glass towards Hermione. 

“I’ll say,” Harry replied, unable to take his eyes off Hermione, “I can’t believe you didn’t let us know you were coming home.”

Hermione snorted lightly at the word “home” but forced a weak smile behind her butterbeer. “Oh it was really a last minute sort of thing. McGonagall wanted to back off the whole professor, head of house business. Honestly, I didn’t think it was that big a deal,” she continued somewhat dismissively before taking a very large gulp of her drink.

Draco noted the tension that seemed to be crawling over Harry. Clearly Harry was trying to remember when he had last heard from Hermione or made any attempt to contact her. Harry turned questioning eyes on Neville.

“Hey don’t look at me, mate,” Neville said, his hands up in surrender, “I only heard last night that you didn’t know she was back. Malfoy and I only found out because of McGonagall.”

Draco tried to control his immature satisfaction over Potter’s very obvious realization that Draco had known about Hermione’s return before he did. _That’s not the only thing I know about her that you don't_ , Draco thought to himself, with the smugness of having snatched a snitch right under Potter’s nose. Glancing over at Hermione’s half empty glass, he laced his fingers behind his head with a smirk.

“Hermione, seriously, you could have written,” Harry said in a low voice directly to her, “This is very unlike you. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Oh I don’t know, Harry,” Hermione said with bitterness, “Probably something to do with the fact that I haven’t heard from you in almost five years. And you and Ron are kind of rubbish friends.”

Hermione’s eyes shot open like she had swallowed a slug. Harry and Neville eyed each other uncomfortably. “Why did I just say that…” she asked to no one in particular.

“Hey, easy there,” Neville said gently, “I am sure a lot has happened in five years that would make friends...”

“Make friends completely forget about each other, Neville? Well, I know what happened to me these last five years. I tried to get my family back with no help or support from bloody anyone. I felt so terrible for Obliviating my parents that I gave up magic. So much for the so-called brightest witch of her age, right? Turns out it’s much easier to just wait tables and fuck any Muggle with a pulse in New South Wales.” Hermione snapped viciously before clapping her hand over her mouth in alarm. Harry choked on his drink and Neville looked like he wanted to Disapparate to another dimension. Hermione turned panicked eyes to Draco whom was humming a soft tune while staring at the ceiling.

“Malfoy…”

“Uh, yeah?” he asked innocently.

“What did you do?” she demanded, articulating each word slowly.

Draco sighed and fished something from his coat pocket that he set on the table in front of her. She kept her eye on him as she pulled the cork from the small vial and examined its clear, odorless contents. Her face going white as she stared at her empty pint glass. 

Harry recovered before Hermione did and glared at the blond wizard, “You gave her fucking Veritaserum, Malfoy?! Are you insane?!” Hermione looked at Draco with horror.

“It just sounded like you had some things to get off your chest,” Draco said as calmly as if remarking on the weather.

“And why would that be any of your concern, Malfoy?” Harry spat. 

Hermione shook her head and put her hand over her mouth again, looking at Draco with desperate eyes. 

“Go on, pet. Tell Potter and Longbottom how I got you to Hogsmeade today,” he whispered so only she could hear him. 

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, resisting the effects of the potion. “He...He would only let me...orgasm this morning if I promised to tell you I was back...in person,” she said very quietly, her fingers holding the edge of the table. She exhaled a shaky breath as she stood up, tears beginning to collect on her long eyelashes. Taking care to not touch or look at Draco, she managed to say, “I am going to head back before I say anything else that I might regret. I’m sorry for my... candor, Harry. Please send my love to Ginny… and Ron when you see them.”

Draco finished his drink as she walked out the door and was rising to follow her when Harry’s hand shot out to his forearm causing him to sit back down. Harry's green eyes glittered with rage.

“I think you should probably stay for another drink before you start a third Wizarding War, Malfoy,” Neville said at last, placing a steadying hand on Harry's shoulder. Draco sighed in assent and ordered a round of fire whiskey for the table. 

"How dare she think that we didn't care when she's the one who took off?" Harry said slamming his glass to the table after his third firewhiskey which caused a few patrons to glance over in their direction.

"I mean I just assumed she had met someone in Australia and wanted to stay near her parents," Neville offered, "I didn't know anything about her giving up magic...or that other bit." 

"Yeah, that 'other bit' apparently includes shagging this prat," Harry glowered at Draco.

"Hey now, I was merely attending to the good witch's needs," Draco replied, ignoring the scandalized expression on Neville's face. "You were her best friend for years and couldn't even be bothered to send so much as a chocolate frog on her birthday two days ago, too busy being a famous Auror and all." Harry opened his mouth, but whatever clapback he had suddenly died on his lips. Draco smirked triumphantly as he stood.

"Clearly fame isn't everything, is it, Potter? Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make amends for my rather unkind conduct. I suggest you consider doing the same."

After a moment in the uncomfortable silence, Harry turned to Neville, "Did that seriously just happen?"

"The part where Hermione begged Malfoy to have sex with her or the part where Malfoy was giving you tips on friendship?" Neville returned to which Harry could only groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That jerk. Hate him? Love him? Maybe both?


	6. A New Addiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A little guilty pleasure whenever she needed an itch scratched. She would just laugh off his stupid little prank and they could be grown-ups about it. He seemed keen, she thought confidently. Yeah, I’m totally in control of this situation, Hermione told herself. Just like every addict in history._

Despite the smugness that Draco had felt as he left Potter slack-jawed at the Three Broomsticks, a unsettling feeling came over him as he considered Hermione’s forced confession. He had not been looking for anything other than some light sexual entertainment, a fulfillment of some latent teenage fantasy about forbidden fruit. He had sensed her interest that first night at the Start of Term Feast, and she had been so deliciously easy to provoke. So he thought why not have some fun. It was only now that he was wondering what makes a girl like Hermione Granger "fuck anything with a pulse" as she had just confessed.

The night she had come down to the dungeons, he had expected her to stamp her little foot and snarl at him, but instead she had come undone so perfectly, so desperately. At first, he thought that he would give her a little taste as a birthday present, and then they could go back to their civil arrangement with him indulging in the occasional peeks at her journal for his own amusement. But then Neville had to go and upset her. That wouldn’t do. Draco felt that her suffering should be his alone to enjoy without outside interference. 

He had not gone to her room with any intention of comforting her. In fact, he had expected her to slam the door in his face. Draco was surprised at how effortlessly she yielded to him in her misery. They had had virtually no past interactions that would have invited such vulnerability. _What made her assume such familiarity_ , he wondered. And yet the thought of her small shaky hands clutching at him made his cock swell. For a moment, to his horror, he had cared about her stupid insecurities. But then the little brat still had the nerve to be arrogant, taunting him to fuck her into oblivion. 

Out of spite, he denied her the satisfaction that night of course. Such impertinence was not to be tolerated. He made her orgasm over and over, but no matter how many times those clutching hands reached for his cock, he swatted them away. He had relieved her of her clothes while she was still in his lap and then worried her nipples with his teeth until she was hissing with need. He grabbed her hips as she rubbed her cunt against him, leaving a shining milky trail of her want across the front of his black robes. He slid two fingers into her, matching her pace until she was shuddering against him, her forehead pressed to his shoulder with loveliest whimpers in his ear. 

When she tried to pull at his neck to bring his mouth to hers, he turned his head to drag his teeth against her throat instead. She could feel his hardness pressed against her, the inky black material of his robes dragging fire across her sensitized skin. Her whines were like music to his ears with high-pitched keening layered on throaty growls. Any attempts by her to control the action were met with monk-like restraint, and he loved the way that it frustrated her.

When he stood to bring them to the bed, he could see the smallest trace of victory in her eyes as she reached again for his straining erection. The look on her face when he captured both her wrists above her head was a portrait of confusion and distress which made him smile wickedly. He released his hold with a growled command to stay which left no room for interpretation as he lowered his head to her chest and continued farther down. His icy gray eyes never left hers as he made gentle bites on her inner thighs, purposefully avoiding her drooling sex.

Hermione thought she was dying, certain that her blood would boil to cook her from the inside. Her pulse pounded in her ears to drown out all thought except her need to have more of him. From between her shaking thighs he gave her a teasing expression, a smirk that she knew so well that sent a wave of wet heat to her core. 

“Malfoy…” she groaned.

“Hmmm?” he hummed innocently, the vibration so very close to where she needed it.

“P-Please…” she panted.

“What do you need, pet?” he asked, his breath hot against her cunt.

Her dark pupils were dilated, nearly occluding the warm honey of her irises, a slight glint of madness behind her gaze. Her whole body glittered with a sheen of perspiration, her wild hair a nest against the pillow. She bit her lip, a last ditch effort to not beg. He wanted to break her open, split her apart like a geode to see the wonders hidden inside.*

“Please, I need… inside… please…” her head rocking against the pillow, chest heaving.

“I don’t know. You’ve already come at least twice. You sure you deserve more?” he drawled, his voice dripping with smugness.

“Oh Gods, I… please I just need…”

Draco watched her carefully as he brought two fingers to curl into her. He smiled as her hips bucked against him with increasing speed, savoring her scent and her desperate noises. He could tell by her urgency that she was nearly there, and just when her lips were drawing into a small ‘o’ he quickly removed his fingers, chuckling at her frustrated cry. 

He let her wail and thrash as he licked his fingers leisurely, seemingly unperturbed by her tantrum. He would enjoy this game over and over, relishing in the cycles of hope and despair that devastated her. Lunch and dinner past by without notice as they were singularly focused on only one type of hunger. 

“Why…” she sobbed after he withdrew his mouth just before she was about to shatter.

“Because I like having the last word, pet,” he replied, licking his lips while she stared at him with murder in her eyes. 

“Please, I can’t anymore, it’s too much. Please can… I… need rest,” she started to blubber in such a pitiful way that even Draco relented at last. 

He crawled up the bed and pulled her back to his front, his still-trousered leg between her knees, his nose buried in her curls. Her breath was still ragged as she curled against him, her hands wrapping around the arm that was thrown over her to still her trembling frame. She shuddered as she closed her eyes and gave into exhaustion.

Draco found himself surprisingly drowsy wrapped around the little witch and though his stomach ached for food, he decided to enjoy the sensation of her naked body against him. He managed to shrug off his robes without disturbing her before he pulled her to him again beneath the covers. 

* * *

When Hermione awoke Draco was still curled against her and very much asleep. She sat up and tugged the sheets around her bare chest, flushed with heat and hunger, remembering the conversation with Neville, the crying, and then… what ever that was.  Draco’s lips were barely parted and soft with sleep. One arm was draped across his chest, his palm resting against the rumpled blue material of his shirt. A lock of his white blond hair had fallen over his brow. She bit her lower lip as she gently carded her fingers through it. He stirred lightly at her touch, his eyes fluttering open to meet hers, giving her a dreamy smile that made her breath hitch. 

“Hey, Granger…” he sighed.

“Hi,” she returned with a shy smile.

“How long until breakfast?”

“Thirty minutes at least. It’s early.”

“Good,” he breathed, though she wasn’t sure if he was talking about breakfast or the time before breakfast as he reached up to grab a fistful of her dark curls to bring her lips to his.

The kiss was hungry and searching. He parted her lips easily with his tongue and pulled her astride his hips. His hand instantly found that sensitive nub as he dragged his fingers through her already slick folds. Without breaking the kiss, her fingers blindly fumbled over his shirt buttons, rushing to explore the hard planes of bare chest. She moaned as she groped at his trousers, feeling his hard length through the fabric. 

“Do you want it?” he whispered in her ear.

She moaned something unintelligible that seemed to be affirmative in tone which made him smile against her neck. He pushed his pants and boxers down over his hips, his freed cock slapping audibly against his hard belly. He delighted in the way her eyes grew wide as she stared at it wantonly. He rubbed his length against her while her hands braced against his chest.

“I don’t believe you really want it,” he said, his cock quickly becoming slick with her wetness, his rough thumb on her clit pushing her towards madness, "Perhaps we should wait until after breakfast…”

“Noooo… Please… fuck need it now,” she whined, eyes squeezing tight.

“Let’s make a deal then,” he said, mesmerized at the way her hips were rolling against him.

“Yes, yes....whatever you want, just please…” she breathed. 

Draco chuckled, his imagination running away with the notion of having sexual carte blanche from Miss Hermione Granger. 

“It’s just one little thing,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss on her shoulder.

Hermione was so delirious with want and so close to climax that in that moment she would probably have agreed to perform acrobatics for the Dark Lord himself. “Yes, anything, D- D… Damnit...” she sputtered and hissed.

Draco reached down to stroke his hard length a few times before he lined up the large head of his cock with her swollen opening, digging his fingers into her hips to keep her just above him.

“We’re going to Hogsmeade today. And you’re going to tell Potter that you’re back,” he said with complete control in his voice. 

“No, wait, what? Unff…” Hermione’s eyes shot open in confusion. 

“Say it. Say you’ll go,” he ordered, rubbing the head of his cock against her. He savored her predicament, her eyes blind with lust.

“Yes! Fuck, fine!” she cried out, barely registering him saying _good girl_ before he slammed into her with enough force to rattle her teeth. She gasped as he took hold of her hips and pumped into her at a relentless pace until they both groaned together at last. He folded her into his arms, her cheek against his chest, both sweaty and sated. When their breathing finally slowed, he kissed her lazily, sucking her lower lip into his mouth.

“Mmmm...that was lovely,” he said with a satisfied sigh.

She nodded sleepily and put an ear to his chest, taking comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. She was spent and would have considered drifting back to sleep if their stomachs had not decided then to growl simultaneously. Draco smiled warmly at her as he tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I have already missed a lunch and a dinner for you. You will not deprive me of my breakfast with your wicked charms, temptress,” Draco said seriously, gently sitting them both up. “Meet you in the Great Hall for breakfast then Hogsmeade later?”

A worried expression crossed her face, but she bit her lip and nodded. He stood then to tug on his clothes, and she reached to hand him his robes. She couldn’t help but notice her strong scent as well as the obvious white marks down the front and prayed that he wouldn’t notice. No such luck. He fixed her with a knowing gaze before bringing the soiled garment to his nose to inhale it deeply. Hermione pulled the sheets tightly around her chest as she ducked down to let her hair fall around her blushing cheeks. She was in trouble. Big trouble. 

* * *

After the fiasco at the Three Broomsticks, Hermione ate dinner that night in the Great Hall, grateful that both Draco and Neville appeared to have stayed in Hogsmeade for their evening meal. She picked at her food, vaguely replying to Flitwick about some curriculum questions that he sprung on her. She walked back to her room on legs made of lead. She couldn’t believe that Malfoy would humiliate her like that, but the more she thought about it the more naïve that sounded. He had always liked humiliating her.

Harry had seemed so hurt. It wasn’t fair, she thought. She just felt so alone after the war. Everyone seemed so ready to move forward. She had just wanted to go back to being her parents’ daughter. She couldn’t stand thinking that she had chosen magic and the mission over them. And she just didn’t want to bring anyone else down with her. Maybe they would have understood if she had tried to tell them, but it was too late to change that now.

So what now, she asked herself. She may not have wanted to be so harsh with Harry (and Neville by proximity), but at least he knew now. She had “gotten things off her chest” as Malfoy had said. She was going to start a new life in the Wizarding world. She was a respectable professor and a head of house, being professionally mentored by a Headmistress whom thought she had great potential. She had a place to start and that was something that she couldn’t have said five years ago.

However good it was to get things out in the open, the trick with the Veritaserum was still a rotten one. Presumptuous and paternal at best, and downright cruel at worst. Malfoy was… Her mind flooded with memories of his cock stretching her from the inside out, forcing out all the sad little troubles that had been on her mind. She knew this was a pattern of hers. The feel-good empty-headed sensation of lust was a familiar coping strategy. How many times had she shoved away an unhappy thought in the arms of a stranger? She had lost count. 

She could smell them a mile away. The ones that wouldn’t be any trouble for her. Good boys generally, the type that called their mums on Sundays, but were still years away from settling down. Sometimes travelers from Germany or Canada. The ones perfectly happy to have a quick weekend romp with “Jean” the Muggle without ever knowing about Hermione. It was enough that she was pretty, so long as no one asked her to be bright or to carry something life-or-death on her young shoulders.

It wasn’t until her birthday that Hermione realized just how much she still craved that feeling of nothingness, that familiar drug. And, Gods, could Draco Malfoy dish it out like no one she had ever encountered. Even disgusted with his prank, she felt herself aroused by his scent in her bed. She remembered the horrible things that he had said that first night that had made her want to break apart in his hands. Even thinking about him sleeping in her bed with her made her body twist with want.

If she was willing to be the bigger person and try and reestablish friendships with Harry and the others, maybe keeping Malfoy on the side wouldn’t be that bad. A little guilty pleasure whenever she needed an itch scratched. She would just laugh off his stupid little prank and they could be grown-ups about it. He seemed keen, she thought confidently. Not quite Friends with Benefits. Yeah, I’m totally in control of this situation, Hermione told herself. 

Just like every addict in history. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long update, hope everyone enjoys. Flashback to sexy times as promised to @CarrieMaxwell. 
> 
> I devoured that His Little Bird series by TheWanderersWanderingDaughter and I realize that my version of mean Draco is no where near the level of mean Draco in that story. However, it did give me the inspiration for the edging/orgasm denial/coercion in this chapter. 
> 
> Hermione is so cute when she thinks that she's in charge. She's not. At all. And if she thinks that she's going to be able to control Draco or use him casually, she's about to get a rude awakening.
> 
> * _"He wanted to break her open, split her apart like a geode to see the wonders hidden inside."_ Love means never saying you're sorry for co-opting your partner's romantic pillow talk occasionally for writing material.


	7. A New Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hermione smiled into her well-sugared tea and proceeded to ignore him while eating her muffin, breathing a contented sigh over each mouthful. The shoes and hosiery were exceedingly impractical, but entirely worth the expression on his face. The way the scarlet robes cast a rosy tint to her complexion made her appear flushed with arousal and made him think unwholesome thoughts as he struggled to finish his meal without leering at her openly. When he went to attend to his First Years she gave him a smirk as if he was surrendering the field. _This witch does not know who she is fucking with_ , he thought darkly._
> 
> cw: noncon fear play (heights), plant bondage/penetration, generally mean Draco fuckery, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

The Monday morning sun glared through the identical bedroom windows of Professors Malfoy and Granger, irritating both of them out of similarly poor sleep.. Draco’s annoyance on waking was only made worse by his hard length that was already swelling with thoughts of the little brunette swot next door. Even taking himself in hand as he showered hardly satisfied him as much as it usually did. The weekly schedule for Potions class was front-loaded with Monday being his busiest day, teaching all students except the Fourth Years, and he was already in a bad mood.

Hermione on the other hand only had Third Years to worry about on Mondays, followed by a stack of papers to grade that somehow she forgot about over the weekend. _'Forgot'_ , she snorted, _more like I was nearly drowned, molested, drugged, and humiliated. Well, okay, maybe ‘molested’ was too strong a word_ , she corrected herself, but something was still unholy and untoward about the way he got her to drop her defenses so quickly, and it pissed her off to think about not having the upper hand. She hated the way she felt more affected than he seemed, and thought over schemes to remedy the situation. A very petty Hermione slipped into her highest black pumps with thigh-high nude hose, a perfectly straight seam up the back of each leg. She chose her bright Gryffindor red robes which had a deep satin-lined hood. “Why, Grandmother, what big eyes you have,” she said to her reflection with a smirk. 

As she left her room for breakfast, Hermione made for one of the side entrances to the Great Hall located closer to the High Table. Because of this, Draco did not notice her until she was nearly to her seat, and Hermione smiled in victory as he sputtered on his coffee. She slid gracefully into her chair and reached across him for a muffin, giving him a knowing look as she said in a low voice, “Malfoy. You’re drooling.” Draco had murder in his eyes as he mopped coffee off his chin with a napkin. He was not in the mood to be teased.

Hermione smiled into her well-sugared tea and proceeded to ignore him while eating her muffin, breathing a contented sigh over each mouthful. The shoes and hosiery were exceedingly impractical, but entirely worth the expression on his face. The way the scarlet robes cast a rosy tint to her complexion made her appear flushed with arousal and made him think unwholesome thoughts as he struggled to finish his meal without leering at her openly. When he went to attend to his First Years she gave him a smirk as if he was surrendering the field. _This witch does not know who she is fucking with_ , he thought darkly.

Hermione sat in her classroom to begin marking papers while she waited for her first section of Third Years. The Slytherins and Ravenclaws would have Transfiguration first followed by Potions, whereas the second section consisting of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs who would have Potions then Transfiguration, with lunch happening in between. This allowed her to provide more hands-on assistance as the students tackled more advanced material.

Hermione had planned on introducing the Draconifors spell that week. She reviewed various safety warnings before she demonstrated the technique. Focusing her intention, she gracefully made a slashing motion with her wand at a metal cup on her desk while clearly articulating the incantation. Her students expressed amazement as a flash of fiery orange light revealed a kitten-sized dragon with emerald green scales and bat-like wings. The creature ascended from her desk to make a wide swooping circle over their desks. As the dragon flew over Hermione, she cast a counter-spell and then deftly caught the metal cup in her non-wand hand as it dropped from mid-air. 

“Remember, students, to focus your intention. Concentrate. You need to know exactly what your dragon looks like and how it moves before you cast,” she instructed, “Firm, decisive wand movements, like so. Okay, pair off and practice.” She walked about the room, adjusting wand movements, quizzing students on their dragon descriptions. By the end of the class, Hermione was pleased that most of the class could successfully cast some form of the spell by the end. She awarded 10 points each to the three Ravenclaws that were also able to manage a bit of flight with their transfigurations. 

Hermione had decided to have a snack in the classroom for lunch to finish up the last of the weekend grading. Later, as the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Third Years shuffled in after lunch, she was taken aback by their overall condition. Red-rimmed eyes from at least half of the Hufflepuff girls suggested recent crying. A handful looked like they might be sick, and she smelled something foul coming from the robes of two Gryffindor boys. 

As they were filing into their desks, Hermione gently put her hand on the shoulder of one of the Gryffindor girls sitting towards the front. She stooped down and asked with great concern, “Dear, did something happen earlier today?”

The girl’s lower lip trembled before she whispered, “Professor Malfoy, took away 40 House p-points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Each. And h-he gave detention to two boys for spilling a c-cauldron of Girding Potion.” 

_Well, that explains the smell_ , thought Hermione before asking, “Why did he take away House points?” 

“No one could get their potions right today. Professor, I swear, I studied the recipe over and over in the library last night and I j-just… but Professor Malfoy was so…m-mean...” the girl’s voice cracked.

“There, there now,” Hermione soothed, “Girding Potion can be quite challenging, and I’m sure Professor Malfoy must just be having a bad day.” _Or he’s just an insufferable arse to both women and children_ , she thought.

Once everyone had arrived, Hermione addressed the whole the class, “It has been brought to my attention that Potions class did not go very well today. What we will be doing here will require your attention and focus. Grab the metal cups on your table and bring your things outside to the Middle Courtyard. We will be having class outside.”

This cheered the students up immediately and they quickly made their way to the courtyard just outside the classroom. Once outside, Hermione repeated her demonstration of the Draconifors spell creating a slightly flashier turquoise-colored dragon with a horned tail that flew above the courtyard hissing fire before returning to Hermione’s hand as a metal cup. The students paired off and by the time the class was over, both houses had more or less regained the lost House points through demonstrations of knowledge or transfiguration skill.

When the students had cleared out, Hermione walked back to her room to swap her heels out for some far more practical dragonhide ankle boots and black knee socks. The fall air was crisp but not cold as she made her way down to Hogsmeade village to get a break from the castle. She found a small table near the front window of the Three Broomsticks, empty of its usual crush of school children. An order of tea and biscuits later, she pulled out her journal some much needed venting.

>   
>  _Needed to get out of the castle. I can’t believe that prat would stoop so low as to take his frustrations out on children. Especially those in MY house! Clearly he doesn’t know the first thing about discipline if he is giving detention for accidents and terrorizing his students. They did so well today, and I made sure they got all their House points back. Funny that we were transfiguring dragons today. Why is always dragons lately?_
> 
> _He hasn’t bothered to apologize about the Veritaserum. Fucking git. The look on his face this morning though = bloody priceless! He probably would have bent me over the High Table if I had let him. Too bad for him, I can hold out until he comes crawling. He’s no different from any of the other ones. I just need to sit back and wait._

As Draco kept one glaring eye on his N.E.W.T.-level students, he tapped his wand to his journal to check for any recent updates. As he read her writing in real time, his smile grew broader and his thoughts more sadistic. He recalled when he had first cast the spell that she taught today. It was a fun one to learn, and he remembered how skillful he was at making things fly. Taking out a piece of parchment, he came up with a plan for ‘crawling’.

Hermione had just reached her door when a parchment peacock gently flew into her shoulder. Her eyes scanned the hall, but only saw a few loitering students, none of whom seemed to be the source of the charmed paper creature. When she examined it, the bird flattened in her hand revealing a short message in strong, masculine script: _Sorry? Middle Courtyard. Tonight at 9. DM_

Draco smiled solicitously all through dinner as he inquired about Hermione’s day. He appeared suitably contrite when she chided him about the upset Third Years. She hardly noticed the way his hand tensed on his knife when she offered to assist him with working with students who were struggling in Potions, but he nodded and thanked her for such a kind offer that he would be sure to consider carefully. Hermione was practically floating with renewed confidence as she leisurely tucked into her chocolate pudding. She recklessly gloated about how she had negated his House points deductions. Draco sipped his wine and allowed the Gryffindor to foolishly dig her own grave.

Hermione decided to use the hour before their meeting to shower and cast a few makeup charms for good measure. She decided to keep the red robes and dragonhide boots, but selected a white satin bra and knickers set to go underneath a white button-up blouse and gray wool skirt. “Grandmother, what big teeth you have!” she grinned to herself as she checked her matte ruby red lipstick one last time in the mirror. 

The halls were more or less cleared out as Hermione made her way towards the courtyard flanked by empty classrooms. It was a bit cooler now that the sun had set and she pulled her collar up and was glad that her hair was loose down her back. She could see his silhouette in the moonlight as he leaned against one of the stone pillars. He did not turn to face her until she was nearly next to him and by then she had come too close to respond when she saw the dangerous glint in his gray eyes.

Hermione was not at all prepared for the hard shove that forced her to her hands and knees in the shadows of the courtyard knocking the wind from her. She whipped her head around to look at him when she realized that he had cast a Sticking spell to keep her in her current position. She glared at him, confusion turning to rage almost instantly. He quickly relieved her of her wand before casting a Muffliato charm to keep them from being overheard. A stream of vulgar obscenities cursing him, his hair, and his mother spewed forth from her pretty red lips while he examined his nails with an air of insolent boredom. 

“Such an angry little kitten!” he mocked. She spat out more curses before he cut her off and then drawled, “I would think about your position carefully, Granger. I could resort to some truly Unforgivable tactics if you catch my meaning. I don’t appreciate being teased. I had meant to make amends about my bit of fun with the Veritaserum, but you just couldn’t resist trying to rub my nose in it. That won’t do.”

“What are you planning to do, Malfoy?” Hermione asked with quiet hostility.

“Oh, you’ll see. You may even like it. Eventually anyway,” he said, “But first we have a few things to set up.”

Hermione watched curiously as he pulled two black Nimbus broomsticks from behind the stone pillar. He unceremoniously flipped up the back of her robes and skirts (far more than was necessary) in order to place one broomstick on the ground between her hands and knees. If there was one thing that Hermione had not excelled in during school, it was flying. She had avoided it as much as possible due to her overwhelming fear of heights. Draco pointed his wand at the broomstick until it levitated just below the apex of her thighs, and cocked his head to one side as if surveying a work in progress.

He circled behind her and with a Severing spell and two flicks of his wand her panties lay shredded in the grass below her. As he came back into her view, she watched as he pulled a small plant cutting from his pocket and he set a coiled black vine with soft springy tendrils on the end of the floating broomstick’s handle. Draco tapped it with his wand and she watched with confused fascination as it coiled down the handle towards her. 

Draco watched with delight as it dawned on Hermione where the plant was heading. “I helped Neville cultivate this particular variety of Devil’s Snare,” he explained as the tendrils slid up her wrists, pulling them to the broom’s handle, “Highly useful for defensive spells and very responsive to magical control. And of course like all Devil’s Snare, it has a particular fondness for damp, dark places.” Hermione felt vines circle each ankle to bind them to the metal posts, and several more strands ran over her hips to tighten around her waist underneath her skirt. 

“Almost done,” he said, running his fingers through her hair, barely avoiding her teeth as she tried to snap at him. “Naughty kitten,” he scolded lightly. Hermione pondered what could come next when her eyes grew wide as galleons. She shook her head furiously even as she could feel (though could not see under her skirt) the first tendril part her lips and begin to send more rapidly twisting vines into her. “I bet the words Damp, Dark, and Places are flashing through that anxious little head of yours, aren’t they?”

“Are you done swearing or do we need to find another damp, dark place?” he asked as she felt just the slightest tickle against the rosebud of her bottom. He could not control his laughter as her eyes welled up with panicked tears. “Okay, not right now then. Let’s get some flying in tonight, shall we?”

Draco took up the second broom and cast another spell that Hermione did not recognize. As he took to the air at breakneck speed, she realized that the spell caused her broomstick to replicate his movements about three feet from him. Soon he was zooming high over the grounds running rapidly through complicated maneuvers like rolls, drops, and twists while watching as her hair whipped around her terrified face. The night air stung her cheeks and thighs.

He paused in midair at a dizzying height long enough for her to retch her dinner pitifully. “Enjoying yourself, kitten?” he mocked as she turned a red tear-streaked face towards him. All her struggling had only made the Devil’s Snare more active, the vines on her hips pulling her more painfully onto the thick shaft pulsating in her. 

When she didn’t answer he reached over and parted her robes, taking his time as he unbuttoned her shirt. Her teeth chattered with cold. She kept perfectly still her eyes straight ahead, not looking at him or the ground far below them. He vanished her skirt and smiled broadly at the sight of her cunt stretched out over the Devil’s Snare. Draco dragged his hand across her bared belly and swiped a finger across her sensitive clit. Her eyes involuntarily looked down for just a second before she squeezed them shut with a whimper.

“Are you sorry yet, Granger?” he whispered near her ear. Even with a bit of sick in her hair and her lipstick smeared, he thought she was a work of art. Her small hands held the ebony handle of the broomstick in a death-grip, her knees splayed wide on either side of it. He knew that just under her red robes her rear would be perfectly positioned by the her ankles tightly bound just behind her hips and her arms stretched far forward. “No comment after all that hissing earlier? That’s a shame. I guess I’ll just have to leave you up here until you’ve learned not to be a cock tease.”

“NO! I’m s-sorry, Mal- umph- f-fuck! It was stupid! Gods, I hate h-heights, please,” she whined.

“Tell you what. We can be done up here,” he said, smirking at the dumb hopefulness in her eyes, “as soon as you make yourself come.”

Hermione looked confused, glancing at her bound hands. _He can’t mean..._ , she thought, giving him a sharp look. He waited with patient amusement as she made a few tentative movements. She pushed herself up from her hands and ankles to rise a few inches before sinking back down. He positioned his broomstick in the opposite direction to hers allowing him access to fondle her soft breasts the attention and the cold making her nipples hard enough to cut glass. Hermione repeated the motion a few times until her slick juices were running down the penetrating plant. As she increased her pace the obscenely wet noises made her blush even further in the moonlight. 

He brought his lips close to her ear, “Such a good girl. Do you hear how wet you are? You’re making such a mess while fucking yourself for me. I can hear you getting close. I know what you sound like now when you’re about to come. When you close your eyes tight and start to whimper. Gods, such pathetic filth. Maybe Potter and Longbottom need a few photos to get an idea about how much things have changed down under. And what did you say yesterday? ‘Anything with a pulse’? Sorry, kitten, your standards are clearly lower than that if you’ve resorted to fucking plants. You should see some of the horrible things that Neville has in the greenhouse. I wonder what else I could put in your tight little holes. Oh, that reminds me since you’re getting so close to the end…”

Hermione didn’t understand what he meant until it was too late. Her eyes were glazing over from the motion of her hips and his words were shooting heat straight through her. She was concentrating so hard that she didn’t feel the creeping tendril of Devil’s Snare snaking between her legs to push against her puckered arsehole. She cried out at the sudden invasion, but bucking her hips to get away just sent her over the edge until she was writhing in orgasm, her come dripping from high above the Quidditch pitch. 

He restored the locomotor replicating spell on hers and glided both broomsticks down to the ground again. Draco took out his wand and produced Bluebell flames to cause the Devil’s Snare to shrink away from her. She was hardly able to hold herself up as the bonds on her wrists and ankles loosened and the vines retracted from her, so he caught her around her middle and dragged her limp body into his arms.

He heaved her over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes and gave her firm swat on her backside when she tried to struggle. He made his way to the empty Transfiguration classroom and deposited her on her desk. He stripped her of her remaining clothes and spun her onto her back, her head hanging off the edge. With one hand on her throat and the other on his hard shaft, Draco grinned down at her, grey eyes meeting her brown ones. 

“I’m glad at least a few of my Slytherin Third Years can make a Girding Potion that exceeds expectations. That’s how I know that your night is far from over, kitten. You’re not in control here. You are a filthy, cock-hungry little addict, and I kind of hate that it makes me so hard thinking about abusing you. I am going to make you hate how much you enjoy this. I can be plenty nice, if you behave. You've seen that already, haven't you? But I have zero patience for you being a tease or a brat. Now open your fucking mouth, so I can show you what happens to cock teases. You're not leaving until I'm satisfied that we understand each other, Granger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Hey I'm about to post another chapter on that one work  
> Partner: Uh, which work?  
> Me: You know which one  
> Partner: (begins reading on his phone)  
> Me: (anxiously waits for impending doom)


	8. A New Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I really liked that,” she sighed._
> 
> _“Do you remember what you said? You know, when you came?” he asked tentatively._
> 
> _She blushed and made to pull away, “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that, I can’t exp...”_
> 
> _He wrapped his arms around her possessively and whispered in her ear, “I really liked that.”_

With his endurance enhanced by Girding Potion, Draco intended to use Hermione until she was both sore and sorry. His pace was punishing and his pursuit of his own pleasure involved continuously denying hers. When he rolled off of her to his side at last, she whined with desperation. She was a frightful sight: thick ropes of white cum in her hair, and her swollen red cunt weeping with his seed. Draco smirked with satisfaction as he lazily pinched one of her nipples until she squealed in distress. He let his fingers graze over her skin as she panted and writhed.

“What do you need, Granger?” Draco whispered in her ear. She shut her eyes and rolled her hips towards his exploring hand. 

“Can you...please?”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty tired…” he said lightly, feigning a yawn.

She groaned in frustration. She reached down her own hand and mewled as her fingers made contact with her throbbing clit. She met his eyes. Almost afraid that he would stop her, she quickened her speed, her fingers sliding in easily. Draco loved the expressive look in her eyes, pleading as if they sought his approval. _How was it possible that he could abuse her so, and still she looked at him this way_ , he thought. 

“Ask me, beautiful. I know you want to.”

“May I come? I’m so close…” she whispered her eyes fluttering closed.

“Keep looking at me. Don’t come yet,” he ordered, pinching her nipple painfully.

“Uh, D-, D-,” she panted, climbing again towards release.

Draco smiled as she seemed to be holding herself just weakly by the fingertips both from an impending orgasm and from screaming his name. He would enjoy tormenting her with either. He bent his head to her chest and circled a rosy nipple with his tongue, his fingers ensnarled in her hair. 

“Who do you belong to?” he pressed, teasing her to say his name. 

Hermione’s eyes went dark as they held his. “Mmm...D-, unf, Daddy!” she cried out, her eyes widening with horror and her face flushing red with lust and shame.

Draco had not expected that at all, but it yanked at something in his core as if he had just Apparated to the spot. If he had not already spent himself it would have made him come instantly. He shoved her hand out of the way and dove three fingers into her just as she shattered into gasps. He watched her beautiful face as she rocked on his hand, her own clutching desperately at his shoulder. 

When her hips slowed, he pulled her into his arms and planted kisses along her hairline. The stone floor of the classroom was hard and cold against their skin despite their robes laid beneath them. They had long stopped caring. He picked her up, floating their clothes in a loose bundle, and made his way to the fireplace, emerging from the Floo into his own room. 

Not feeling that a simple Scourgify charm was sufficient he set about filling his bathtub, casting an expanding charm to increase its size to accommodate them both comfortably. She made weak protests about the late hour, but he ignored her and pulled her back to his chest, caging her in his long limbs. The warm water felt good on her sore muscles as he lathered a soothing lavender-scented shampoo through her curls.

“Mmmm, I really liked that,” she sighed as his fingers carded through her hair.

“Do you remember what you said? You know, when you came?” he asked tentatively.

She blushed and made to pull away, “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that, I can’t exp...” 

He wrapped his arms around her possessively and whispered in her ear, “I really liked that.”

“But, why? Is it something...with others...” Hermione seemed unsure of how she wanted to frame her question.

“No. You’re the first to call me that. It felt good though. Almost natural even.”

“Yeah, it just sort of came out in the moment,” she whispered, still a bit flushed with shame.

“How did you feel when you said it?" he asked. 

“Small. Seen. I don't know. Not in control of everything.”

“And you like feeling that way?”

“Yes. I guess sometimes I feel like I am always responsible for everyone else. And I just want someone to be bigger than me," she blushed as she replied and then asked, "How did it make you feel?”

“I felt like you were looking for my approval. Like you trusted me with you. You know, I was so annoyed with you earlier. I didn’t like you teasing me. I didn’t like thinking that you were just using me to scratch an itch.”

“Aren’t you just scratching an itch with me?” 

“I thought I was. But now I’m not so sure. I really like hurting you. I definitely like embarrassing you. And obviously you're sexy as hell. But, fuck, when you called me Daddy. I don't know, I felt powerful as if I had made you say something that you were trying to hide. I wanted more than just making you suffer, and I didn’t expect that,” he explained.

“So what are we now? What do you want?” she asked somewhat concerned, twisting around to face him.

“I want more of this. More of you. I want to make you small,” he replied, kissing her neck.

She hummed in agreement, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against his chest. He stood and rinsed them both off quickly before wrapping first her then himself in warm towels. She used her wand to dry her hair before she climbed into his bed with him. The dark satin sheets were cool to her skin and caused her to curl up against him. The lights were dimmed and the covers pulled up over them. She knew that they both would be drinking Pepper Up Potion with breakfast, but didn’t seem to care. 

“Goodnight… Daddy,” she whispered.

“Sleep well, little one,” he whispered back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry so short. I have finals this week. However, this plot twist has been kicking around in my mind for several days. For those that were loving sadistic mean Draco, don't worry, he's still there and has many other nasty, degrading things for his little Hermione to suffer through.
> 
> PS: B, I love you. Thanks for being the meanest Muggle Daddy ever.


	9. A New Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Draco pulled himself up to sitting so that he could drag her into his arms. She tucked her head under his chin and took a few deep breaths while he held her. Draco knew that they both had to get moving if they were going to make it to classes on time, but could see that she was in a tender headspace that he didn't want to leave things like this. **Gods, was he somehow starting to care about Hermione Granger?** , he thought to himself. _
> 
> _"I know it's probably hard for you, but try not to overthink this. It feels good, right? And if it stops feeling good just tell me. You said you want to feel small. I want that, too. Small and safe. So just let me take care of you for awhile, princess.”_

_How did this even happen_ , Hermione wracked her mind as she woke up the next morning. Draco looked content in his sleep. The dark bedsheets contrasted with his pale skin and his nigh-white hair was gleaming ghostly in the early morning light. She needed to head back to her room to get dressed for breakfast, but the weight of his leg thrown over her thigh just so delicious and made her want to snuggle further under the covers. _Seriously, Hermione? You want to “snuggle” with Draco Malfoy?_

Draco awoke with a yawn and the delightful sensation of Hermione’s warm naked skin against him. Vivid images from the previous evening quickly making his cock swell against her hip. 

“Pleasant dreams, I take it?” Hermione asked, nodding down toward his erection. 

“Hmmm,” he murmured into her hair and reaching down to palm her still-sensitive sex, “I dreamt about playing the strangest game of Quidditch with a most unusual snitch.”

“Did you find it?” she giggled.

“Many, many times,” Draco whispered, her hips squirming under his hand in response. 

“Quick shag before breakfast?” she panted.

“Aw, I think you can ask nicer than that,” he said stroking his fingers across her tender nipple.

“Malfoy, we don’t have time for th-” she whined when he took his hand away and placed it behind his head.

“Fine, fine. Can we fuck before breakfast, please?” she bit out with irritation.

“Is that how we ask nicely? Ask me like a good girl. Tell me what you want,” he whispered close to her ear, his fingers tracing down her chest.

Hermione felt like her face was on fire as he continued to stare at her, his expression expectant. He arched one brow as she leaned to whisper into his neck, “I w-want to come. Please can you help me...Daddy?” 

There was a sharp inhale from Draco before he growled, “Say it again, little one. And look at me.”

She brought her face close to his, noses practically touching as she fluttered her eyes to meet his gaze. Desire dilated his pupils until just the thinnest ring of sea-gray iris could be seen. 

“Can Daddy help me come before breakfast, please?” her face blushing as she asked.

“Such a sweet girl. Of course Daddy can help,” he said, kissing her forehead.

Draco pulled her on top of him, her well-toned thighs straddling his hips. He grabbed his aching length and ran the thick head through the slickness of her folds a couple of times before lining himself up. He looked up at her and just basked in the glorious vision of her. The mane of tumbled curls that fell to tickle the rosy tips of breasts, her skin flushed with heat. Her eyes were closed while she sank down, whimpering as each inch disappeared into her. When he was at last seated fully to the hilt, he grabbed her hips and matched her grinding movements with his thrusts. His hands roved over her pert arse as she rolled her hips, their pace frantic and relentless. 

She had been bracing her arms on his sternum, but leaned forward to capture his lips with hers. It was a hard and hungry kiss, teeth nearly connecting, tongues dueling for dominance. He let one hand drift over her arse to the nadir between her cheeks, using his other arm to pin her against his chest. She squealed a bit into his mouth as she wiggled her hips away from his exploring fingers. “I don’t even need a lubrication charm, baby girl, you are drooling so much all over my cock that there’s plenty enough for this tight little hole.” She buried her face in his neck as she felt the tip of one long finger slip past the constricting ring, groaning when it slipped in easily. A second finger joined the first and she felt so full with his cock deep in her cunt and his fingers digging into her arse. 

“See not so bad, right? Don’t worry. Daddy is going to make sure you’re really ready before you take his cock here. Are you ready to come for me, little one?”

Hermione bit her lip and nodded, posting herself up on her arms again to have the leverage to grind harder against his pubic bone as he thrust both his cock and his fingers into her. He loved watching the bounce of her breasts and the way that the movement of her skin made the cursed scar across her chest ripple in the morning light. Her eyes went black just as they fluttered closed and she whined in warning of her release. 

“Princess is about to come isn’t she? She’s about to come with my fingers in her bottom. Go on. Come for me, little one,” he encouraged, keeping up with her pace, his own climax chasing hers until they fell into a breathless sweaty heap of entwined limbs. 

“We have just about missed breakfast,” she sighed, her eyes still closed.

“Fucking worth it,” he panted, feeling her nod in agreement. 

He wandlessly summoned two vials of Pepper Up Potion which they both downed quickly. Hermione managed to roll away from him and sit at the edge of the bed, rubbing the aching muscles in her low back and thighs. She reached over to the nightstand for her wand to clean up the dripping evidence of their sex. Draco knew this was necessary, but could not stop his sudden urge to paint her body with his seed. 

“As much as I’d rather laze in bed all day with you, we do have to get dressed for the day,” she said, bringing his attention back to the present. 

“Hermione Granger? Wanting to laze in bed all day? I’m speechless,” he drawled with a smirk.

Her expression darkened suddenly and he immediately tensed. “Hey now, what’s the matter, little one?” he asked, stroking her back,

“There has never been any time for 'lazing'. There was just the war and then there was after. I...I don’t usually act like this,” she said, gesturing between them. “I don’t usually feel safe enough to just want to relax with someone. Or see them again after. It’s usually just sex. I feel safer when it's just sex.”

Draco pulled himself up to sitting so that he could drag her into his arms. She tucked her head under his chin and took a few deep breaths while he held her. Draco knew that they both had to get moving if they were going to make it to classes on time, but could see that she was in a sensitive mood and he didn't want to leave things like this. _Gods, when did I start to care about Hermione Granger?_ , he thought to himself.

“I know it's probably hard for you, but try not to overthink this. It feels good, right? And if it stops feeling good just tell me. You said you want to feel small. I want that, too. Small and safe. So just let me take care of you for awhile, princess.”

Her sigh suggested disbelief even as he could feel her nodding against his chest.

 _Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, promising to take care of a Muggle-born Gryffindor princess_ , she thought, _No one would even believe it if I told them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning sex before work, and there's just never enough time for proper aftercare, but Draco tries his best. I made some edits to the last couple of chapters and since it's been awhile since I've updated, I think they are worth a re-read. I hope everyone is enjoying this strange kinky romance.


	10. A New Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“So this is what we are going to do. I'm going to give you a bath so we can wash all these tears away. Then I think it’s a good night for your snuggly pajamas once you are all clean. Yes, the black kitty cat ones that Daddy likes. And since you haven’t been eating very well because worry makes your tummy hurt, I’m going to have the house-elves send us up a little snack.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how a month and some change passed since my last update for this WIP. I got thrown out of graduate school for being an unproductive disappointment during a pandemic while having a mild nervous breakdown. So art imitating life a bit in this chapter. Please enjoy (and comment!)

A couple of weeks later, a watchful Draco sipped from his goblet as Hermione fretted visibly next to him in the Great Hall. Hermione was flipping through a book as she pushed her chicken around her plate with agitation. _Enough_ , he thought. He snatched the book shut ignoring her huff of protest, and then proceeded to cut her meat into small pieces and adding creamed potatoes, a slice of butter, and four peas to her plate. 

"What are you doing?!" she hissed at him, wishing desperately not to draw attention.

"I'm making sure that you don't pass out from hunger during your meeting with McGonagall tonight. There. Now eat," he said in a low voice that only she could hear.

She pushed the plate away and turned her nose up to indicate that she was not hungry and held out her hand expectantly for the book that he had placed out of her reach. Whatever he was playing at, this was not a game that she was interested in while in full view of the Great Hall. Especially when she had to meet with the Headmistress after dinner to discuss her performance and progress.

"You will either clean that plate or Daddy is going to feed you in front of everyone. You choose, little one," he leaned over to whisper, his mouth hot on her ear.

Hermione sputtered, shaking her head quickly. She picked up her fork, casting furtive glances around the table. A painful lump of anxiety had taken residence in her throat all day, and she had to concede that the smaller bites were easier to swallow. Not that she would ever admit that to Draco. _That smug bastard_. After a few minutes, her body relaxed somewhat and she chanced a look at him. She feared he would be wearing his typical smirk, but he just offered a soft smile as if getting her to eat (albeit with threats of humiliation) brought him immense contentment. _Thank you, Daddy_ , her warm eyes said without saying.

"I'll wait for you in your room, pet. You'll be fine," he whispered, squeezing her shoulder encouragingly as he stood up from the table. Hermione's eyes followed the retreating shape of his inky black robes until he disappeared through the heavy doors of the Great Hall. Hermione's look of longing did not escape the sharp eyes of Minerva McGonagall sitting to the girl's right. _Interesting development_. 

For weeks Hermione had been so wrapped up in the heady, amazing, confusing, kinky, _insert100otheradjectiveshere_ **thing** with Malfoy that she had been truly blindsided by a message from the Headmistress regarding their first apprenticeship meeting. Hermione, like Hagrid, had been granted her position without earning a Mastery degree. While she had her reputation and former experience to speak in her favor, Hermione's employment at Hogwarts was still contingent on completing a Transfigurations Mastery over the next two years under the mentorship of the Headmistress.

Neville had completed his apprenticeship at Hogwarts before he was hired on as a faculty member and had early on taken over the lion's share of teaching responsibilities though Professor Sprout remained the Hufflepuff Head of House. Neville had been practically a savant in Herbology since his early years and with a real gift for teaching to boot, he was a natural choice to be a professor.

Draco had been a less obvious faculty addition. After the war both Draco and his mother had quit Malfoy Manor and settled in France once his father was returned to Azkaban to resume his life sentence. Draco had chosen to begin his Potions Mastery studying under a retired Beauxbatons Academy professor. Despite his young age, Draco had been published several times in scholarly journals and he had secured a number of patents already when the Headmistress had reached out to him to explain that Professor Slughorn had left abruptly (with an American witch half his age, no less). Draco had been all too happy to return to Britain after receiving an offer of employment as Potions Master and Head of Slytherin.

All this to say, that despite the laurels of being the Brightest Witch of Their Age, Hermione was for the first time, academically and professionally speaking, behind the curve compared to her colleagues. She had sat her N.E.W.T.s at the Australian Ministry of Magic not long after arriving and done quite well considering the last year of war. But when the exams out of the way, she had afterwards drawn away from magic until she finally tucked her wand away in her desk. She had lost her parents because of magic. There had been so many losses. _Sirius. Dumbledore. Moody. Hedwig. Snape. Lupin. Tonks. Lavender. Fred. Dobby..._ She whispered their names each night, a litany to remind herself what magic had done. What the hatred of her Muggleborn-magic had done. For that reason, Hermione nearly declined when Minerva contacted her. But when her former Head of House had written such words of praise that she couldn't help but feel a spark of her old self again. She could come home to Hogwarts and would work hard to get her magic back to where it had been. It had been hard at first. She didn't like to admit it, but at times she had to revise almost as much as the students, practicing the very material she was expected to teach. Hermione was constantly tamping down feelings of being an imposter (or, worse, a fraud like Gilderoy Lockhart). This weighed heavily on her mind as she followed the Headmistress into her office. Hermione steeled herself and took her seat with a shaky exhale.

"And how has the first month of teaching been, Miss Granger?" the Headmistress opened once she had taken up her place behind her large desk. 

"Ah, very well, I think the students have been generally performing at or above standards," Hermione responded rather vaguely.

"The example lesson plans that I provided have been helpful as templates for your own curriculum design?" she asked, looking out over her wire-rimmed spectacles.

"Well, respectfully, I wouldn't want to break what's not broken, Headmistress. What I mean to say is that, I have not d-deviated from the Ministry-prescribed topics and your plans..." she offered hesitantly, her voice breaking off at the end.

The Headmistress hummed in response fixing Hermione with an appraising look that made the young witch want to crawl into a dark hole. She wiped her sweating palms over the velvet of her robes and gave a weak smile.

"I had hoped that you would be taking this as an opportunity to apply your considerable talents more creatively, but I understand that you may need more time to build up your confidence."

"Yes, I see. I will be sure to work on that, Headmistress," Hermione responded primly as if she had just caught a whiff of Thestral dung.

"I don't mean to worry you, dear, but as you know the Guild granted you an extension until the Christmas holiday for submitting your research prospectus. As we discussed, this will be a requirement for the Transfigurations Mastery. By our next meeting I will expect that you will be prepared to discuss some of your ideas so that we are on track unless of course you are ready now."

"Um, I am still... synthesizing at this time," Hermione hedged, "So many ideas that it's been rather difficult to choose just one."

 _Liar_ , she thought, knowing full well that she hadn't started on her project prospectus at all.

"I see. And everything else has been going well? Settling into the castle?" McGonagall asked, "I can't help but noticed that you and Master Malfoy seem to be getting on surprisingly well." A statement, not a question. _Fuck. What does the old witch know?_

Hermione nodded dumbly in response, but her blushing spoke volumes. The Headmistress failed to suppress a surprised titter, before she lightly coughed and her features settled into her usual stern countenance. 

"Miss Granger, I think that will be all if you have no further questions. I expect more at our next meeting in a month's time, understood? I would be very disappointed if you were to get distracted when you have so much potential, dear girl."

_Very. Disappointed. Very disappointed. Very disappointed. Disappointed, disappointed..._

Hermione felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room and was barely aware of bidding the Headmistress a good evening and making her way blindly towards her quarters. A heavy buzzing in her ears sounded a lot like _Very. Disappointed. Very disappointed. Very disappointed. Disappointed, disappointed..._

The words were still ringing in her head as she stepped into her room. Malfoy lounged comfortably in one of the armchairs by the fire, the book she had been reading open in one hand and a tumbler of Firewhiskey in the other. He had removed his robes and his pale gray dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. Finely-tailored wool trousers in slate gray clung to the planes of his well-muscled thighs which were sprawled wide in a princely posture of authority. Hermione licked her lips and swallowed as she leaned back against the door to close it, regarding him quietly while trying to shove away thoughts about the meeting. 

The words bloomed in her brain once more: _Very. Disappointed. Very disappointed. Very disappointed. Disappointed, disappointed..._

She shed her clothes as she walked towards him slowly. Robes, dress, stockings, heels, placing them neatly in the opposite chair until she was standing bare before him holding only her wand. Hermione's eyes, those fathomless amber pools, were trained on some spot on the floor between his feet. She offered her wand to him with both hands, a slight tremble betraying her. He waited an impossible beat before calmly putting the book and whiskey on a small side table and took her offered wand. A cord of tension visibly released as the wand left her fingers, and as if it had been a puppet string suspending her, she gracefully sank to her knees. 

He scrutinized her. He admired the rise and fall of her rosy peaked breasts and the softness of her belly. She had sat back on her heels with her knees spread until they nearly touched the inside of both his ankles. _She takes direction so well_ , he mused possessively, _my perfect little student_. Her hands rested on her thighs, the palms up so that he could see the delicate skin of her forearms in the firelight. _Mudblood_ clearly visible on her left. Disarmed. Naked. Exposed. Waiting for him. 

His long pale fingers held her wand lightly as he traced along one forearm then the other and then followed the tortuous path of the light purple scar across her torso from Dolohov’s hex. She stayed perfectly still as he used her own wand to tease along each delicate collar bone, even dragging its tip across her throat to apply pressure against the tender pulsing artery until she whimpered. How he loved that helpless sound and the way that it shot straight to his hardening cock. Finally, he placed her wand under her chin to lift her gaze. She resisted for just a moment before she let her eyes find his, warm honey meeting mercury. He could smell her arousal and she knew it.

He did not bother concealing his use of Legilimency. On the contrary, casting it verbally served to remind her that no part of her, not even her mind, was out of his reach or sight. Even knowing it was coming did not help which made her feel so much worse when her hastily constructed Occlumency walls crumbled and failed. He wouldn't taunt her with that tonight. He generally did his best to limit his traipsing through her mind. He used it to gain clarity about her wants, her limits, and the many thoughts which she struggled to put into words. Even when her cheeks burned with shame, he found that her mind submitted willingly, desperately pleading to be seen. _Okay, babygirl, tell Daddy what hurts_. 

He cupped her jaw firmly in one hand and cast “ _Legilimens_.”

He moved around easily, her scant mental defenses amounting to “Just don’t think about it” and “Just do what he says”. Behind these barriers he found her meeting with McGonagall, her scattered memories washed with every shade of insecurity and her fears of failure. _Merlin’s beard, no wonder she looks so miserable_ , he thought. The meeting was practically her boggart nightmare come to life. He retracted from her mind to find her struggling to maintain her position as her fingers twitched and her shoulders trembled. She had taken her lower lip between her teeth and he could tell that tears were on their way. Very soon by the look of it.

He considered his next steps carefully, narrowing his eyes as if she were a chessboard. She liked having rules to follow. Sometimes he would leave her in this submissive position for over an hour, her posture a vision of perfection. She had explained to him that it calmed her to be tasked with something she could do well that required self-discipline. She so wanted to be Outstanding in all that he asked of her. On some nights, quietly holding this position for a time would be almost meditative for her. Afterwards, she would glow bright from his praise and affection. But as he gazed down at her then she just looked so small and fragile, already showing signs of breaking. No, it wouldn't be the best approach this time. Any failure now, even imagined, would be devastating to her. 

He knew that at other times she needed to be debased until she disappeared. He saw evidence of her relying on that as a coping strategy to an almost troubling extent in her memories of Australia. She didn’t want to be Hermione Granger, Golden Girl. She didn’t want to be a brave Gryffindor, best friend to the Chosen One. Instead she craved being brought low with hisses of “filthy little mudblood” in her ear. She admitted to him that her initial attraction to him lay in how exquisitely she remembered his disdain. He assured her that he no longer felt that way, but the memories remained potent. How humiliating to beg affection from a previous source of cruelty? And yet, part of her hungered to be an object, a toy for his use. She confessed that her appetite for this feeling had been insatiable for years, fed by an endless stream of nameless sexual partners. While he happily indulged her on occasion, he was much more interested in reminding her of its artificial nature. He could inflict degradation that left her a sobbing mess, but he would soothe his brilliant little witch with tender aftercare. He could be the scary dragon as much as she needed, so long as she remembered that he was Daddy first and foremost.

Draco feigned a bored sigh that he didn’t truly mean when fat tears spilled out over her long, thick lashes. She did not dare move her hands to wipe her face, so the tears rolled down her cheeks and rained across her breasts. His mouth ached to follow each drop with his tongue, but he kept his mask of stony indifference.

“You’re acting like a silly child,” he drawled, taking a sip of his Firewhiskey, “All this fuss because Mummy McGonagall was rightfully cross with you for being lazy and unprepared? Isn't that right, Granger? Come on then, if you're going to be child then sit in my lap and tell me why you’re crying.”

Hermione looked up at him with large glassy eyes before complying, settling herself in his arms before she mumbled, “I feel stupid. I’m crying because I feel stupid.”

“What else?” He prodded her in the chest with her wand making her flinch.

“I’m not good enough anymore and she could see it. She w-was...very disappointed. Said I was distracted,” Hermione said miserably, her fingers squeezing a handful of his gray shirt.

“Try again. Come on, we’ve talked about this, little one,” Draco said, his voice softening as he rubbed her back.

“I...I feel like I’m not good enough. I feel d-disappointed. I am afraid of how far behind everyone else I am,” she offered hesitantly.

“Mmmm,” he hummed in satisfaction, “That’s much better. Just because you feel something that doesn’t make it true, remember? I know tonight must have been very hard. So this is what we are going to do. I'm going to give you a bath so we can wash all these tears away. Then I think it’s a good night for your snuggly pajamas once you are all clean. Yes, the black kitty cat ones that Daddy likes. And since you haven’t been eating very well because worry makes your tummy hurt, I’m going to have the house-elves send us up a little snack.”

“Can there be ice cream?” she whispered earnestly. 

Draco fixed her with an arched eyebrow and in his best Severus Snape baritone, “Obviously.” She grinned and kissed his nose.

“I’m proud of you, little one. It’s tough coming back here after all this time. But you are still that same clever, brilliant, insufferably swotty witch that you always were. I promise. Tonight I don’t want you to worry about being anything other than my little girl. Tomorrow we can head to the library and brainstorm prospectus ideas and create a research timetable. I know of this very well-written transfigurations text about anima一” Hermione cut him off with a kiss that neither of them could find disappointing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like it had been so long since the last update that it seemed only natural to skip ahead a few weeks in the story. I tried to introduce some possible kink dynamics that I might have them explore later. I typically write from personal experience, so take that as you will. I wanted to show Draco giving thought to what she needed in the moment and also that there's some variety in their dynamic that is based on more than Draco feeling randomly cruel or caring on a whim. Story tags updated!
> 
> Want to chat? I just created an fanfic IG account. Follow me @hislittlestarling.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment!
> 
> Title Inspiration:
>
>>   
> Buffy: "Nothing's changed. It was a mistake."  
> Spike: "Bollocks! It was a bloody revelation. You can act as high and mighty as you like, but **I know where you live now** , Slayer. I've tasted it."  
> 


End file.
